


Take Me Home, Country Roads

by dechagny



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Canon Universe, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, One Shot, Sorry!, probably out of character, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28937799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dechagny/pseuds/dechagny
Summary: Shortly after the Goolding Inquiry, Adam and Fergus take a weekend trip to visit Fergus' mum in the countryside. With Mrs Williams' loving criticisms ringing through their ears, they have enough space to reflect on their relationship and careers, leading them to discuss their future.
Relationships: Adam Kenyon/Fergus Williams
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	Take Me Home, Country Roads

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RattlesnakesRomance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RattlesnakesRomance/gifts).



“Will you fucking pick a song already?” Fergus snapped, tapping his fingers restlessly on the steering wheel. He exhaled heavily through his nose, staring ahead at the blurring motorway and the darkening sky. “Or I swear to God, I’ll plough us straight into the next bloody road sign.”

Adam rolled his eyes and turned on to Radio 4 instead with a childish huff. “For fuck’s sake, there. Happy now?”

“Not especially, no.”

With the windows rolled down as they were, it was difficult to hear one another over the blaring sound of choking engines, the wind, and of course, the varying music and radio stations at the tip of Adam’s fingers. Still, it was hard to ignore the silence that stretched in Fergus after that and Adam couldn’t ignore the rising tide in him for a moment longer. He turned down the dial on the radio until it was no more than a whisper.

“It was your idea to go in the first place,” Adam pointed out. “I don’t see why you act like your mum is the worst fucking person on Earth.” He went quiet too, turning his head to the passenger window to watch a herd of cows on a field in the distance. “You could have a worse mother.”

Fergus pressed his lips together, furrowing his eyebrows with a frustrated sigh aimed at himself. “I know,” he said, taking his left hand from the steering wheel to squeeze Adam’s thigh. His fingers resting easier on his than they did on the wheel. “It’s just…she can be a bit much, that’s all. And it wasn’t my idea; it was hers. Thought we could do with a break in the country after the stress of the inquiry.”

“Something tells me you’d be less stressed if you’d stayed with the cast of the Lord of the Flies,” Adam said, only half-joking as he took Fergus’ hand and kissed his knuckles. “I bet they’re all running around like fucking nutters without Stuart and Tucker pulling the strings.”

Despite himself, Fergus smiled and squeezed Adam’s hand before wrestling it away from him to place it back on the wheel. “Honestly, any long weekend I can take away from that bunch of simpering pricks is a weekend I’ll take. Even if it is for a nauseating visit to see Mum.”

“I like her,” Adam said with a shrug, a smile creeping over his mouth. “I hope she gets the baby photos out again.”

“That’s half the fucking problem in the first place,” Fergus grumbled. “You’re the only boyfriend she’s actually liked, and it’s fucking terrifying because, objectively, you’re the worst one.”

Adam’s smile grew into a Cheshire cat grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Either that or motorway smog.

“I’ll have you know I’m a fucking delight,” he said, turning up the radio again and laughing as Fergus fired him a look that deeply exposed the dimple in his flushed cheek.

* * *

The car came to a slow stop on the gravel path, crunching cream and caramel-coloured stones as it did. Decorated with window boxes bursting with colourful flowers and herbs, the cottage’s exposed red brick façade hadn’t changed in the months since they had last visited Mrs Williams, but the front door had. Instead of the chipped, flaking brown exterior they were used to, there was now a fresh emerald lick of paint that matched the wooden gate set in the rugged stone wall. There was still some damage to the slate roof tiles, and Fergus had a horrible feeling his Mum would try and coax him and Adam into to help her sort it out instead of calling a roofer as a normal person would.

Situated out in the countryside in Norfolk, Mrs Williams’ cottage was a breath of fresh air that both Adam and Fergus enjoyed from time to time. They relished in the quiet, and so did Mrs Williams, who was eager to move out of London after her husband died. She was never much of a city girl anyway, and on more than one occasion, Fergus had wondered how his parents had got together in the first place.

Fergus was much too like his father sometimes, and he was grateful he’d never fallen for anyone like his mother. But he ignored the Freudian thoughts and opened the car door for his nose to be assaulted with grass, soil, and the savoury scent of whatever his mother was cooking for supper.

Before they had the chance to knock on the front door with their weekend bags, Mrs Williams threw open the door with a smile, crooning at her only child and her defacto son-in-law as she ushered them inside. Fergus had inherited his red hair from her, and hers was as frizzy as it always was, tangled up into a bun at the nape of her neck with strands falling free. She enveloped them both one by one into her soft flesh and kissed them on the cheek, much to Fergus’ chagrin, and Adam’s joy – mostly because he loved how much it annoyed Fergus.

“Lovely to see you both,” she said. Despite moving to England as a teenager, she hadn’t lost a single iota of her Scottish brogue. “Still Liberal Democrats, are we?”

Adam raised his eyebrows and laughed. It was a burst of fake, restrained laughter that he seemed only to reserve for her, and it sounded like nails down a chalkboard to Fergus every time. “Afraid so.”

“Pity. I was hoping you would’ve grown out of that by now,” she said, closing the door. Then, without so much as a word or a sound, she clipped both of them sharply around the ears, making them recoil and curse.

Rubbing his reddened ear with a frown, Fergus let out an indignant complaint. “Oi, what the fuck was that for?”

Mrs Williams tutted and led them through the hall to the living room where Marmalade, her elderly golden retriever was sleeping curled up in one of them paisley armchairs.

“Language, Fergie,” she said firmly, taking their bags and popping them behind the sofa. “That was for how you both treated that poor man in the news. Those emails were absolutely disgusting,” she gazed at them with a ferocious intensity more terrifying than anyone at the inquiry were able to portray. Her rounded face was turning purple just thinking about it, and both Fergus and Adam had the decency to feel a little shame in front of her. “I expected better from you, darling. The Right Honourable Fergus Williams, indeed? The Right Honourable Horrible Pain in my Backside more like.”

“Sorry, Mum,” Fergus said in his rare, shamefaced state, feeling the heat radiating from his cheeks and seeing Adam’s smirk from out of his periphery. He subtly elbowed him in the ribs, feeling like a seven-year-old again. “It was wrong, and the inquiry was…” he paused, trying to find the right words to please her without lying. “Eye-opening.”

“You can say that again,” Adam muttered.

“And you, Adam,” Mrs Williams snapped, wagging her stubby index finger at him, shutting him up instantly and making him stand straighter. “You’re supposed to be his adviser. You shouldn’t have been cruel either, and you should’ve advised him against sending emails like that in the first place. You’re both public figures, for crying out loud!”

All they could do was repeat their apologies, glancing at one another like naughty school children being told off in the head teacher’s office, until Mrs Williams’ anger subsided. She instructed them to sit down and make themselves at home while putting the kettle on, her demeanour changing in a snap.

There were no carpets – it was all creaking but shining wood with rugs under the coffee table and dining table to stop scuffs from appearing. Marmalade lifted her head to see what was going on but was unimpressed with the arrival of Fergus and Adam, mostly because she couldn’t smell food or other animals on them and rest her head back down again in a dejected sigh.

“Hello to you too,” Fergus teased, stroking her head before falling into the sofa’s plush cushions. Adam followed suit, but not before Marmalade decided to lick Adam’s hand in response.

“I’m very popular with the ladies around here,” Adam said smugly, resting his hand on Fergus’ thigh as he sat down. To soften the blow, he kissed him on the temple for good measure.

Fergus grumbled fondly. “That’s because no-one here can see how much of a wanker you can be for some reason.”

“Again, it’s because I’m a fucking delight,” he insisted, draping his arm around Fergus’ shoulders with a lazy smile, his heart beating that little bit faster as Fergus leaned into him. He’d never had that before – that feeling where it always felt like the first time. It was as if his whole being was still surprised by the affection “You know, if you don’t start seeing it soon, I’ll have to go on the hunt for someone who actually appreciates me and what I have to offer.”

“I already do, but you’re welcome to go and get your ego stroked elsewhere,” Fergus insisted easily, stifling a yawn. They’d driven the two hours straight from work and hadn’t even had a spare moment to change, and Fergus could already feel the strain of the day on his eyelids. “But you’ll only come pathetically crawling back to me as soon as you realise you’re not as liked as you think you are.”

“There’s only one person I care about liking me,” Adam admitted From the kitchen, they could hear the creak of a floorboard – the deep moaning creak they recognised as the board beneath the cupboard where Mrs Williams kept the biscuit tin. “Alright, maybe two people,” he added, grinning broadly. It was the most he’d smiled in weeks and the weekend had only just begun.

Mrs Williams returned with a bamboo tray, the floral china and teapot clattering as she placed it on the coffee table with a satisfied sigh. As she dropped a cube of sugar into each mug and began to pour the strong steaming tea with a steady hand, she looked up at her two boys, as she liked to think of them, and closely scrutinised their crumpled suits.

“That’s a lovely shirt, Adam,” she mused aloud, admiring the light blue pinstripe button-down. “Brings out your eyes,” she added with a grin, handing him his tea, and ignoring the look of indignation on her son. Instead, she cast her judgemental eye over his plain white shirt. “You should wear more shirts like that Fergie.”

“It’s _Fergus_ ,” he stressed, taking his tea with a deep crease in his brow, “and I do wear shirts like that. I’m just not wearing one today.”

Adam smiled over his mug, half charming and half sly. “Thank you, Mrs Williams.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, sweetheart?” She said, offering Adam the plate of custard creams. “You can call me Aileen.”

Dunking his biscuit into his tea, Adam could feel the quiet heat of Fergus’ anger radiating into his side. There was something so enjoyable about seeing Fergus go from someone who was, vaguely, respected, and influential, to someone treated and admonished like a child. His role as an MP was irrelevant between the cottage walls, and the dichotomy was too delicious for Adam not to lean in to.

“Thank you, Aileen,” he said pointedly. “I do try and tell him he should make more of an effort.”

Fergus rolled his eyes and scratched his forehead as his mother chattered on about how if he wasn’t going to make an effort for her or his job, the least he could do was make an effort for Adam.

Adam.

Saint fucking Adam.

“Christ, it’s like being set on by fucking wolves,” he muttered, immediately apologising again when she threatened to box him around the ears again. “Is it bedtime yet?” he grumbled. “I might be able to get some peace and quiet.”

Aileen tutted and tucked the loose sections of her hair back into her over-stretched hairband. “Don’t be dramatic. You’ve got the air of someone who’s jealous, darling, and it’s not a good colour on you.” She paused a moment to pick up her teacup, wrinkling her nose in thought. “Perhaps we should’ve given you siblings so you could better learn how to share.”

Adam snorted, but Fergus’ frown just became all the more pronounced. He loved both his mother and Adam, of course, he did, but he still resented the fact he felt like a bullied schoolchild in their presence. It was like the two of them got together and instantly became one unit intent on embarrassing him to death.

“I can share just fine,” he insisted, taking a deep breath through his nose. “But I would appreciate it if you could stop picking on me for five minutes. We’ve only just walked through the door.”

“Are you hungry?” she asked suddenly. “When you were little, you always got cranky when you were hungry.”

Before Fergus could jump in with another snappy comment, Adam got there first, putting away his usual teasing tone. “We had a quick sandwich before we left,” he assured her. “Things have been stressful for the last few weeks, that’s all.”

“Exactly,” Fergus said, giving Adam a grateful smile. “And I thought you understood, Mum, and that’s why you asked us over. To relax for a bit, not give me a whole new reason to be stressed.”

“I’m not, darling,” she said, waving her hand nonchalantly. “I’m your mother, and I’m mothering you. You’re just peckish. Have a biscuit to tide you over until dinner – we’re having pork stroganoff with some of the mushrooms I picked on my walk this morning.”

It was a hobby that Aileen had picked up after she moved into the countryside, finding a variety of different mushrooms in the woods not far away whenever she went for a walk with Marmalade. Curious, she’d tried to look the type up online, gotten frustrated with the weak internet connection in the cottage, and started scouring books in the local library for the answers.

As soon as Fergus had heard about this, he was immediately concerned. For one, he wasn’t expecting her to come up with a strange new hobby out of the blue, and secondly, he wasn’t sure she knew what she was doing. There was always the possibility she would misidentify something and end up sick or dead. Finally, it was the fact that this sort of hobby or lifestyle was something he wasn’t used to seeing on his mother. He’d only ever known her as the stay-at-home mum or the jaded speech and language therapist. But then again, it had surprised him as a teenager when he learned she’d studied areas of medicine and communication before marriage. For some reason, it never occurred to him that she might have had interests, hobbies, and a life before she fell in love or had him.

What he mostly remembered in the year or two where Fergus still lived at home, and his mother had finally gotten back into work was her coming home with a huff. Looking grey and sunken as she stifled a yawn, trying not to fall asleep standing at the stove, stirring the Wednesday night risotto. All the while, George Williams ranted about his day and the fuckers down in Accounts, not asking about her day.

At least the colour had returned to her face once she’d moved out here with Marmalade.

“Sounds great,” he said with a weak smile. “Thank you.”

Aileen’s eyes sparkled as she tried to suppress her smile as she turned her attention back to Adam. “And I’ve made your favourite for dessert.”

Holding his cup in one hand, Adam’s punched the air, biting on his bottom lip in anticipation. Fergus looked on with half a smile that he was so happy and half a frown for being so weird about it.

“Thanks. You make the best sticky toffee pudding.”

“Well, I’m glad at least one of you is excited. Maybe I’ll give Fergie the recipe on my deathbed,” she said, only partially joking judging by the soft, sincere smile that she gave over the top of her teacup.

Fergus, a well-renowned useless baker, raised an eyebrow. “Great…just what I’ve always wanted.”

“Well, it’s more than your father left you,” she said tightly, her eyes narrowing. She had taken off her wedding ring as soon as everyone had left after the funeral. “Selfish brute.”

“Alright, there’s no need to get into all that, is there?” Fergus said quickly, smiling a little as he felt Adam’s tea-warmed hand on his arm. “Can we just agree that work and Dad are off-limit conversations for the weekend? I’ll have a fucking aneurysm if I think about either for too long.”

“Again with the dramatics and the language,” Aileen muttered as she took her tea to make the final dinner preparations, leaving Fergus and Adam to sink further into the sofa cushions and each other with weary, half-hearted yawns.

* * *

Dinner passed without too many other issues with Fergus’ mood, begrudgingly, getting better the more he ate. They crowded around the small table in the corner of the kitchen, their elbows bumping if they didn’t keep them close to their sides.

They talked about the state of the roof and how Aileen was going to clean and fix it herself but decided against it on account of her tricky knee, and how Adam and Fergus had bought a new sofa, avoiding any hint of how most the springs broke in the first place.

When the dessert came out, Adam barely said a word – his mouth too occupied with the toffee sauce and soft, sumptuous sponge sticking around his teeth and coating his tongue. Aileen watched him fondly and poured more custard for him without being asked for it. Fergus pressed his knee against Adam’s under the table, carefully avoiding Marmalade who was patiently waiting for her traditional meal of leftovers.

“We’ll do the dishes,” Fergus said, standing sharply to his feet when his mum went to clear the table. “Thanks for dinner. Go and sit down for five minutes, and we’ll hand it,” he added kindly, kissing her cheek when he passed her as he tidied the table.

With his sleeves rolled to his elbows and half his forearms submerged in hot soapy water scented with pomegranate, Fergus was powerless to stop Adam’s arms from snaking around his waist when they should have been drying plates. He wasn’t able to stop him pressing a kiss to his shoulder either, not that he wanted to.

“Aren’t you going to be helpful for once in your life?” Fergus asked with a corner smile, rinsing a plate.

“Yeah, yeah, in a minute,” he grumbled, kissing Fergus behind the ear. “I’m celebrating the fact you’re in a good mood again.”

Fergus turned his head to try and meet Adam’s lips with his. When they did, Adam squeezed his waist tighter, making him laugh into his mouth.

“I won’t be in a good mood if you don’t start pulling your weight around here,” he said, reluctantly trying to nudge Adam way with his elbows. When that didn’t work, he flicked dirty dishwater at him, laughing brighter as Adam told him to fuck off.

Taking a plate and a tea towel, Adam sighed and started drying off the crockery with a quirked smile, stacking them in the cupboard above the sink as he did. “I thought we were supposed to be on a break. Why are you talking to me like we’re at home?”

“Because I am at home,” Fergus argued lightly, “in a way. And if you don’t fucking behave this weekend, I’ll turn your bollocks into cufflinks.” He smiled sweetly and thrust a plate at him.

“Kinky,” Adam quipped, raising his eyebrows in mock seduction. “I love that I’m still learning things about you after all this time.” After putting the plate in the cupboard, he flicked the edge of the towel at Fergus, so it whipped him across the ass and made him tense up.

Fergus silently let go of the cutlery in his submerged hands without a word, the water acting as a perfect cushion and removing the sound of stainless steel hitting stainless steel. Then, with the reaction skills of someone who played competitive squash twice a week, lunged towards Adam, splashing water on himself and the kitchen floor.

Before Adam knew what was happening, Fergus was putting his hands over his hair, mussing it with a cheeky grin as Adam squirmed away with a barrage of half-irritated, mostly fondly curses until he finally gave in to Fergus’ attack. As these things always did, it ended with Adam leaning against the kitchen counter, Fergus pressed against him with his hands on Adam’s cheeks, pressing his mouth against his and quietly enjoying the feeling of Adam’s firm, sure hand on the small of his back.

The two returned to the living room with the kitchen cleaned to find Aileen dozing in a chair with Marmalade curled on her lap, which couldn’t have been comfortable. She had knocked Fergus down with her excitement before, albeit when she had been a younger, sprightlier thing.

“You take the bags up,” Fergus said in a hushed voice, bordering on a whisper. “I’ll make sure Mum goes to bed.”

But in that way only Mums can do, Aileen had heard with her bat-like hearing, and her weary voice floated into the room. “I can put myself to bed, thank you very much. Give me a minute, and I’ll pull out the sofa bed.”

Fergus let out an exasperated sigh, exchanging an apologetic glance with Adam as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Christ, not this again.”

“Yes, this again,” she said, growing more animated and drawing herself up in the chair like a monster rising from the sea.

“Right, you do realise I’m not sixteen anymore, don’t you?” Fergus asked, his left hand poised in what Adam affectionately called the ‘little gay sass position’. His other hand had found its way to his hip, and suddenly, both Adam and Aileen could see a glimpse of the teenager he’d once been.

Aileen stroked Marmalade’s head and back as she harrumphed at the continued disturbance. “You’re under my roof, darling, and it’s my rules. I don’t want you both in the spare room because I don’t want any funny business whilst I’m trying to sleep.”

Stifling his laughter, Adam picked up his bag, ambling as if he were trying to stop the floorboards from making even a single decibel of noise.

“Trust me,” Fergus said tightly, “the last thing I want to do is get up to any funny business, “he put air quotes around it with his fingers, “with my bloody mother in the next room.”

“Don’t sass your mother,” Adam said, flinging his bag over his shoulder. He was smiling so much that the crinkles at the corners of his eyes looked like little lightning bolts. “She’s concerned, and she just wants what’s best for you.”

“Exactly,” Aileen said kindly. “See, Adam understands. Why can’t you?”

Fergus gave Adam a cold, harsh stare that told him he wouldn’t be having sex again for the rest of the fucking year if he carried on like this, but Adam, in turn, gave one back that said, ‘it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.’

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Aileen,” Adam said. “I’ll see you in the morning. Night, Fergus, don’t let the bed bugs bite.” He kissed Fergus on the cheek as he passed him towards the stairs, ignoring how he was trying to pinch his arm in a last-ditch attempt to get him to stay and stick up for him.

“Night, Adam, sweetheart,” Aileen chirped. “He’s lovely, isn’t he? I don’t know how you managed to get that one,” she added after they heard the spare bedroom’s door click into place.

Too exhausted to stand and argue, Fergus fell into the other armchair with a sigh. Out of the latticed window behind the sofa, he could see nothing except the glint of his car under the moonlight, and if he squinted, a garden light from another distant cottage somewhere down the grassy landscape.

“Why do you always do this?” he asked, rubbing his fingers over his forehead, and not meeting his mother’s stare. “You two are as thick as fucking thieves, and I can’t get a word in edgeways. I mean, I love him dearly, but Adam’s a bastard, and you’re always sticking up for him. I don’t get it.”

Aileen tutted, her demeanour calm if mildly irritated. “Language, Fergie! I hope you don’t talk to your colleagues like that because it’s not very professional.” She waved away the concern as Fergus allowed himself to sink back into annoyance. Well, if he’s not hungry then he must be tired, she thought. Babies, adults – both could be put in a good mood through food and sleep. That never changed. “Regardless, I know Adam isn’t perfect. I know he’s done wrong and he can be a bit…well, like you. But you complement one another.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, darling, but you need to stop acting like a spoilt, jealous child whenever you both come over,” she said sternly. “I stick up for him because I like him and because you like him, and honestly, I think he could do with a kind motherly presence. I’m not blind or deaf – I know that Adam could do with a kind parental influence from time to time. I’ve heard you talk about his family.”

Fergus’ jaw had cemented itself closed, and he could feel a little shame prickling over his cheeks as he couldn’t dispute that.

“And you’ve clearly had it far too good for too long,” she continued, wagging her finger at him, “judging by your attitude. You can do better than this childish behaviour, the swearing, and your disgusting actions leading up to, and after, that poor man’s death. You can do better than the Liberal Democrats. I didn’t realise you were so desperate for any semblance of power. If only you could get everything as right as you did with Adam.”

All the while, Fergus sat there in silence, practically reciting the criticisms word for word in his mind. “Are you done?”

“For now,” she said, fussing Marmalade with a pleased pout.

“Great,” Fergus said with a relieved sigh, getting to his feet. “I’m going to bed with my boyfriend because I’m in my thirties…and because the sofa bed will throw my back out.” He decided to omit the fact he knew Adam struggled to sleep without him to curl around and that would make him more ill-tempered than usual in the morning.

He took the stairs two at a time with his weekend bag over his shoulder, avoiding the mini terracotta flowerpots on every other step, each filled with a different herb: rosemary, coriander, basil, and damp soil fragranced the air.

When he burst into the spare bedroom, he found Adam standing by the window in his boxers and a white t-shirt, closing the floral curtains over the matching floral lace net curtain. It was probably a good idea to keep the curtains closed in this room anyway so they couldn’t see the unblinking, garish china statue stares of the gnomes on the windowsill.

Adam looked over his shoulder with a grin as Fergus told him he was a prick.

“I love you too, babe,” he answered, collapsing into the soft mattress, and enjoying the crisp linen brushing against his skin. From here, he was better able to appreciate the view of Fergus changing for bed. “You managed to persuade her into letting you up here then?”

“In a way,” Fergus shrugged. “It’s only been a few hours, but I already need to get out of this fucking house,” he told him, fishing around his bag for his toothbrush.

Adam shrugged. “Sure. We can take Marmalade out tomorrow morning,” he paused as Fergus knelt over him on the bed to wipe away the dried toothpaste at the corner of his mouth. “Then we can just fuck around in the pub all day or something. Take a boat up the broads and do that bit in Bridget Jones where we recite shit poetry, and Hugh Grant falls into the river.”

“Is this just an excuse for you to wank off over a young Hugh Grant?”

“Could be,” Adam admitted, his tired eyes following Fergus to the en suite. “Either way, it gets you out of here, doesn’t it? I still don’t understand why your mum stresses you out so much. You’ve had worse from more important people, and that’s never bothered you.”

Fergus had to raise his voice over the din of his electric toothbrush; his words gargled as he expertly managed to keep the foam neatly in his mouth. “That’s because I don’t care what those people think. They’re all a waste of fucking oxygen.”

“But you care what your mum thinks?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted, shoving his toothbrush further into the back of his mouth. “But I’m not bloody clamouring for her approval like you.”

Adam snorted, shuffling further under the covers, and tucking his hand behind his head. “Sounds like someone’s jealous. Again.”

“Oh, fuck off, you even sound alike,” Fergus said, his muffled words marred with disdain.

“Is that why you love me? I remind you of your mum?”

“Absolutely not,” he baulked, spitting into the sink, and turning on the tap. “I actually like spending more than a few hours a day with you.”

Pulling back the duvet for Fergus, Adam grinned, shuffling over. “Well, that’s good, I suppose. It would be shit if you didn’t, given the circumstances.”

Fergus couldn’t help but smile too as he crawled into bed, his head hitting the feathered pillow with a satisfyingly soft thud. Almost immediately, Adam was curling himself around Fergus and giving him a soft kiss to his shoulder.

“I mean, if I get bored of you, I can always fire you or dump you,” he pointed out. Though, judging by how well their bodies fit together under the sheets, how their damaged hearts nestled each other, and how their minds were in sync, he knew neither was a possibility.

Clearly, Adam thought so too because he held Fergus tighter as if to say he was never getting rid of him. “Of course you can,” he said through a yawn.

Already feeling himself slipping into a blissful, restful sleep without traffic or light pollution, Fergus moved to turn out the bedside light, murmuring an ‘I love you.’

“I love you too.”

* * *

They were up seven-thirty, which was a pleasant lie-in for them. With their phones switched off for the weekend and the rare quiet, they could catch-up on the sleep they hadn’t had in weeks. They probably would have stayed in bed longer if Aileen hadn’t been downstairs clattering about in the kitchen with pots and pans as she made breakfast.

Feeling fat and full on a cooked breakfast where Adam got an extra sausage and slice of bacon, and strong coffee, which Adam got in the biggest mug, the pair donned their coats and boots. Marmalade running over when she heard the rattle of her leash.

“Don’t get muddy,” Aileen said, following them to the front door whilst drying her hands on a tea towel. “I’m not having you track mud through the place, and I’m not washing your clothes for you either.”

“We’ll be careful,” Adam promised her, opening the door. Fergus was through it like a shot, Marmalade pulling him out with an enthusiasm that would see her spend the rest of the day curled up in her favourite living room chair. “Would you like us to bring anything back for you?”

Aileen laughed as she came forward, ushering Adam out the door too. “Don’t be silly. Go and enjoy yourself.” She paused as she took in the sight of Fergus’ black Toyota Prius, tilting her head and wrinkling her nose. “Is that really what you’re driving these days, Fergie? It looks… _different_ in the daylight, doesn’t it?”

“Sure,” Fergus said breezily, rolling out the growing tension in his shoulders. “Thanks for breakfast, Mum. Come on, Adam.”

With a cool, light breeze rustling the leaves of shrubs and trees in the woods, Adam and Fergus followed Marmalade as she ran ahead, her snout close to the ground.

The sun was growing in warmth with every passing minute, but the tall trees provided a comfortable shade that was still chilly in spots as though they were occasionally passing through a ghost. As they walked the well-beaten path, the grass either side growing with orange and purple wildflowers, they intertwined their fingers, taking in the fresh air with renewed vigour.

“I’ve always liked it out here,” Fergus admitted, raising his face to the trees.

Adam followed Fergus’ gaze and spotted a little family of birds resting on one of the branches. He ran his thumb over the back of Fergus’ knuckles. “Yeah, it’s nice to get away.”

“Don’t you think we should do it more often?”

“What, stay with your mum?”

Frowning, Fergus shook his head, stepping over a muddy puddle as he whistled to get Marmalade away from the stream up ahead. If she was disappointed by that, she didn’t show it as she came running back, bounding in circles around their legs.

“God no,” he said. “I mean, I love her, but I don’t think we could live any nearer to her than we already do…but the countryside does have a certain appeal.”

“It’s peaceful,” Adam agreed, squeezing Fergus’ hand. “It’s different from London. There aren’t rude fucks lurking around every corner who’ll lamp you for standing too close or hipster twats serving cocktails in jam jars. Or tourist bellends running around like they’ve never seen a fucking city before.”

Fergus grinned, swinging their hands in time with their steps. For the first time in weeks, he felt a peace in his limbs and mind that told him nothing mattered. Not in the grand scheme of things. The stresses of London were so trivial it was laughable. “Yeah, but most importantly, no-one from work is in the countryside. It’s just us being who we want to be without external pressures or expectations.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about work?” Adam said, bringing their hands up so he could kiss Fergus’ hand.

“Not in front of Mum,” Fergus shrugged. “You know what she’s like. Honestly, I’m sick to the back fucking teeth of it all. Sometimes, I think Mum might be right when she bitches about my career choice. We bend over backwards for those fucks, and what do we get out of it? Peter fucking it up at every opportunity, Terri purposefully making it difficult to do anything. And the less we say about Glenn, the better. Thank Christ he’s not going to be a problem any more.” He paused to throw a stick that Marmalade brought him, sending her running off at an impressive speed for a dog her age. “I wonder if it’s all worth it…especially after the email and subsequent inquiry disaster.”

When Marmalade returned with the stick, Adam threw it for her. “I already said I was sorry about the emails, what more do you want?”

“I don’t give a shit about that anymore,” he admitted. “But it’s certainly put things into perspective. I’m not sure how much longer I can do this without having a full fucking nervous breakdown when we could be spending our time doing what we want, maybe even walking through the woods with a dog of our own.”

“Like an early retirement?”

“Maybe,” Fergus said with a non-committal sigh. “It’s just something I’ve been thinking about, that’s all.”

Adam nodded, their pace beginning to slow as they both considered it. The stream’s gentle trickle hitting the stones and the sweet singing of chiffchaffs was the perfect background tune to their rare, serene thoughts.

“It has a certain appeal,” he said slowly. “Namely the fact we won’t have to see anyone else if we don’t want to.”

“Do you think we should do it someday? Find a cottage in the middle of nowhere and tell everyone we know to go fuck themselves? I hate to say it, but I think Glenn had the right idea the other day.”

It surprised Adam just how much he enjoyed the idea of being out of that soul-sucking job – he had only done it for the sake of Fergus, and if he didn’t want to do it any more, then there was no reason for him to stay either. And a life that wasn’t governed by other people, phone calls, and the relentless hours of MPs and Civil Servants was a bonus. Plus, London was a fuckhole.

“I’m not against the idea,” he admitted readily, feeling as much relief in Fergus’ hand as he could feel in himself. “We could start looking for places when we get home. What about Kent? I’ve always quite liked weatherboard cladding.”

Fergus’ face glowed as he threw the stick again, his cheeks as golden as Marmalade’s fur. “How very white-picket-fence of you. I like houses with exposed ceiling beams. We can have a matching floor to the ceiling bookcase.”

“I think I’m looking forward to going home now,” Adam admitted. “Even if it does mean no longer having a constant supply of your mother’s praise and sticky toffee pudding.”

“Don’t go telling her about this,” he warned, clipping Marmalade’s lead to her collar as they reached the edge of the woods and emerged into the street. “I think she’s already one criticism of me away from asking why we’re not married yet.”

Adam raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Yeah, that is a good point, though. Why aren’t we?”

The rapid beating in Fergus’ chest took him by surprise, and he was glad the cool air was wicking away at any sweat building on his palm. “Because it’s just paper.” He paused and looked up at Adam’s pretty profile, his features dark against the light. “And because you haven’t asked me.”

Barking out laughter that startled Marmalade, Adam ran his thumb over Fergus’ knuckles. “Ohhh…so _I_ have to ask _you_ , do I?”

“Well, I asked you to move in. It only seems fair.”

Adam dropped Fergus’ hand to drape it around his shoulders instead and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. The scent of Fergus’ argan oil shampoo making him feel more at home than ever.

“Hmm… I’ll think about it,” he said, knowing full well he’d never want anyone else, not when Fergus’ smile could make him feel the way it did. “Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

“I think I already have,” he admitted, not caring that his mother was standing on the driveway as they came into view of the house, shouting ‘look what I found!’ and waving a book of baby photos in the air.

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to my best friend, Emily, who needed some Soft Adam and Fergus in her life. I hope you enjoyed this and thank you for putting up with my constant fic ramblings!


End file.
